Page:Rambles in Australia (IA ramblesinaustral00grewiala).pdf/216

you will have some sort of a notion of the shape of this noble inlet. From the sea you would come into it at the wrist between Sydney Heads, which are jutting cliffs of sandstone, with the sea breaking at their base. Then far away inland, the fingers of the harbour stretch for miles, fingers very uneven in length and thickness and formation. On one of them stands Sydney and the suburb melodiously named Wooloomooloo, which was once a swamp, and is now as valuable as Brixton. On other fingers are springing up Dulwich's and Wimbledon's and Surbiton's; some fingers dig so far into the continent that their headwaters are lost among tree-clothed hills miles and miles away . . . and all this, town and suburb, and garden city and seaside and country village—all is Sydney Harbour. We saw it a bit at a time, as this or that excursion took us along its ramifications, now in a motor drive to Sydney Heads, or in a taxi through the park that runs to the edge of its waters. But it was most familiar to us, as to anyone who lives in Sydney, by its ferry-boats, which run to and from its many promontories and its growing suburbs, and find their terminus at the Charing Cross of the harbour—Circular Quay. At night with their lighted saloons and incessant movement, coming and going, the ferry-boats make Sydney Harbour